Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Fangirls
by ZiggycamefromMars
Summary: What happens when fangirls are sucked into the POTC universe? Shenanigans, of course!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: If you also want to appear in this fic, please read the appropriate information, which can be found on my stories page. **

**I don't actually appear in this fic, as I don't really think writing about myself would be much fun. There are mentions of my name, however (Louise). **

**SeverusDmitri18, you will appear in the next chapter when that one is written.**

* * *

"Oh come on Lucy! It won't be that bad," Melissa grinned, producing a marker pen from her pocket. She waggled her eyebrows in a comical manner as she watched Lucy begin to back away, obviously frightened that it was going to be another repeat of the Sharpie incident.

"I really don't trust you," Lucy started, holding up her hands as if they were some sort of barrier. "And I think I have every reason to, considering you drew a moustache on me last time."

Melissa giggled as she remembered that sleepover. They had spent the evening with their duvets wrapped around themselves, watching a marathon of their favourite movies. After watching _Sleepy Hollow _and_ Edward Scissorhands, _Lucy had insisted that they put on _Pirates of the Caribbean_. It had been a fun-filled night packed with food, more food and fangirling over their favourite characters. They were so involved in the story, in fact, that both began to discuss their ideal weddings to their ideal men—Lieutenant Groves for Melissa and Will Turner for Lucy.

The evening ended up with both girls in fits of giggle over an accidental innuendo that Lucy let slip regarding Will's 'sword' and the length of it. And once the girl had fallen asleep, Melissa, the devilish prankster that she was, had produced a lime green Sharpie and drew a moustache on Lucy's face. After the incident Lucy was horrified and refused to have a sleepover with Melissa, so the fact that Melissa had managed to persuade her into the current one they were having was a feat in itself.

"No fear," Melissa eventually sighed, having realised she was never going to coax Lucy out of the corner, "I'm just going to put this away now. It wasn't much fun last time anyway. You rubbed it off, _spoilsport_."

Lucy folded her arms across her chest, almost growling, "That is most definitely _not _my definition of fun, you arse!"

"Oh, calm down. You'll wake my mum up. She hates being woken up from her _beauty sleep—_even if it doesn't have any effect on her."

Rolling her eyes and huffing slightly, Lucy folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head. "You're bloody horrible to your mum," she said. "I think you need to be nicer, you know. It might bite you on the butt, and—"

"Hold up!" Melissa grinned wickedly, tossing her ginger hair over one shoulder. "I didn't invite you over to be my agony aunt, Lucy. This sleepover is the first annual meeting of the fangirls! Do you know what that means?"

Lucy stood still, quiet and unblinking. Unimpressed. "For God's sake; it means we get to eat food," one finger went up, "fantasise about the hunky men of Pirates," another, "and talk lots!"

"Don't we do that already?" Lucy flung herself down on the bed, languidly picking up a book and flicking through it.

Melissa opened her mouth to argue; completely ready to defend her idea, but a fresh load of rain began to hammer down on the windows. It was quite odd to think that a few hours ago the weather was sunny and lovely, whereas now it looked like Poseidon himself was about to come crashing in their house. But that was Britain all over—never consistent in its weather.

And as a sharp flash of lightening, so bright it almost blinded the girls, flooded in through the window, Melissa gingerly seated herself next to Lucy. She leaned across with a look of slight fear, before poking the other girl to get her attention.

"What is it, Mel?"

Melissa sighed, her head hanging down with slight shame. "You know," she quietly muttered, "how scared I am of storms."

"It'll be alright. I'm here, and I really doubt your mum would let anything happen to you." Lucy offered a reassuring smile, throwing an arm around Melissa's neck for good measure.

"I know, I know…I just never really liked the whole lightening debacle. Plus, the thunder sounds like the worlds falling apart."

Lucy leaned closer to ruffle her best friend's hair, but screamed instead when the bed beneath them fell away. And before they knew it, they were flung far, far down into a deep abyss of nothingness, flailing and clawing through the air to reach one another.

They wondered if anyone heard their screaming as they fell.

* * *

Elizabeth Swann sat bolt upright in bed, eyes snapping open as she jerked a hand up to grab for the medallion. She had the same nightmare again, the one in which Will Turner was drowning and she couldn't save him because the medallion was strangling her, dragging her down to a watery grave. And even though she knew it not to be true, she still lightly touched her neck and fingered the medallion just to make sure.

On the other side of the room her two sisters slept soundly, Melissa with her arm draped over the side and mouth open in a most unattractive manner, drool on her pillow- whilst Lucy murmured feverishly about storms and falling, twisting and turning in her sleep. Elizabeth began to wonder if her sister was suffering from nightmares like her and rose from the bed, reaching out a hand to stroke the girl's sweaty hair.

"Lucy," she murmured, the other hand falling from the medallion. "Lucy, are you quite alright? Can you hear me?"

The girl stirred in her sleep, before her head jerked away from Elizabeth's hand. She opened her mouth, only to cover it once more with a pale hand, before falling from the bed with a loud thud.

"FISH LIPS!" she screeched, scrabbling across the floor on her hands and knees. "Oh! Quick, Melissa. Wake me up! FISH LIPS TOUCHED ME!"

"Fish lips?"

"SHE TALKS!" Lucy screeched even louder, her face and mannerisms verging on hysterical. She only panicked further as Elizabeth advanced on her with a perplexed look on her face, her hair messily resting on her bare shoulders.

"Sister, what on earth do you mean?" Elizabeth knelt down beside her, keeping her hands to herself. "Do you suffer from nightmares? I do too, Lucy. Don't fret. I shan't tell father. He might think us insane otherwise, and send us off to be married."

"What is all this talk of insanity for?" asked Governor Weatherby, strolling in with a butler. His eyes laid rest on his once screaming daughter Lucy, before flitting across to observe the snoring Melissa.

Even if Melissa and Lucy were not his daughters by blood, they were by heart. He loved them dearly—as he did Elizabeth, and cared for them with every fibre of his being. To see Lucy knelt on the floor, sweaty and wrought with fear, anguished him. He knew he hadn't imagined those screams.

"Is she alright, Elizabeth?"

"Yes, father. She's fine." Elizabeth bit her lower lip, before offering a hand to the reluctant Lucy. Once she pulled her 'sister' up, Swann turned to face her father with a strained smile, murmuring, "It's nothing to worry about."

Weatherby nodded with understanding, an eye flickering across to Melissa's sleeping form. "Still abed at this hour? It's a beautiful day! Good heavens, you girls should learn to wake earlier."

Both Lucy and Elizabeth turned to glance at Melissa, before Lucy ran across and ferociously shook her sister. "Lucy," she hissed, "we've gone mad—either that or we ate bad cheese!"

"Bad…cheese?"

Elizabeth looked just as confused as their father, furrowing her brows. "We haven't eaten cheese for days. I wonder why they are acting so peculiar."

"Perhaps they are just tired," offered Governor Swann, ushering in the maids who scurried in carrying boxes.

"For now," he smiled, "I would like you to step behind that screen, Elizabeth. You too, Lucy—and Melissa, if you can get her to wake."

Elizabeth did as she was bid. Lucy, on the other hand, had now stopped shaking her sister by the shoulders. If the voices sounded so real and Elizabeth had felt incredibly real, then why was she still convinced it was a dream? Outside the window stood Port Royal, as real and vivid as she had ever imagined. On a bluff at the mouth of the harbour stood FORT CHARLES, its stone parapets lined with cannons. Perhaps they truly had fell, and the Pirates of The Caribbean universe was their destination.

"Lucy, can you not wake her?" inquired Weatherby, peering at Lucy with mild amusement. He offered a hand to her, asking her to come towards him, and when she nervously did so he peered at her with mild confusion. It was not like her to act in such a manner, and he dearly hoped that neither of the girls had contracted some sort of awful disease.

"I have a gift for you two," he grinned. Estrella produced three boxes, adorned with a ribbon of sorts.

Lucy peered with great interest at the dress, Elizabeth exclaiming, "It's - beautiful. May I inquire as to the occasion?"

"Is an occasion necessary for a father to dote upon his daughters with gifts?"

Without a single hesitation Elizabeth snatched up the beautiful dress, scurrying behind the screen with a mask of false interest. Truly she loved it, but the sheer elegance of it frightened her. She knew she was at the appropriate age to marry, and no doubt her father had schemed something with her soon-to-be fiancé, James Norrington.

_Hang on. _Lucy's eyes widened, her fingers gripping tightly onto the lavish material of the dress. _This means we get to meet Will soon! Oh fuck. My hair is awful, and I bet Melissa—if we can ever wake her—will make some sort of awful comment about my crush on him. I don't want him to think I'm a fool! _

"I thought you could wear it to the ceremony today," Weatherby subtly said, giving a sideways glance to the mournful Lucy who was staring with disdain at her locks.

From behind the screen Elizabeth stopped rustling, pursing her lips together with complete and utter irritation. She was right, and she disliked it. "Ceremony?"

With one hand Weatherby pushed his daughter behind her own screen, replying with a hesitant, "Yes. Captain Norrington's promotion ceremony—Or, rather, Commodore Norrington ... a fine gentleman, don't you think?"

When Elizabeth gave no answer and the only sound that came from the room was a most disturbing noise from Melissa, Lucy popped her head round and grinned, arching a brow. "He _fancies _you," _fish lips, "_Elizabeth."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!"

From behind them the sound of a thud could be heard, and a weary Melisa got to her feet. It wasn't long before Lucy winced and covered her ears, the shrill shriek of, "MERLIN'S BEARD. WE'RE IN PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN! LUCY, TELL ME YOU'RE HERE TOO!"

"I am," Lucy squeaked, peeking round the screen once more," and I think you really need to _be quiet."_

Melissa simply blinked, drinking in her surroundings. Weatherby opened his mouth to speak, but was cut short when the girl screamed out: "I'M GOING TO MARRY LIETUANT GROVES!"

_Well, at least one of my daughters knows what she wants in life. If only the same could be said for Lucy and Elizabeth. _


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Alright, here come the other fangirls! If you want daily updates, then be sure to send motivation my way in the form of reviews, ect. **

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

**Kathryn**

She thought she could get away from them—bullies; the girls who loved to torment her and ridicule her daily. Whenever they got the chance they made a snide comment, pushed her into a corner or taunted her relentlessly. Every single time she tried to get away they were there, no matter how fast she ran or how well she hid. And she began to feel slightly trapped, wondering if there would ever be any escape.

Kathryn was shy. Teachers, family and friends said this was her downfall because it made her seem all the more timid, perhaps even unable to interact with others properly—which wasn't true. Sometimes she would stutter when meeting new people, or would struggle to make eye contact. To the bullies it made her abnormal, a freak; and she hated it at times, but most of the time she would shrug it off because her mother had told her it was what made her, and that she should never worry. Thing was, she did.

Today was no exception in regards to running away from the bullies. They cornered her in the library, shoving her into the bookcase as she tried her best to flick through the novel and ignore them. And when it seemed they were anything but persistent and would continue to torment her she turned on her heels, scurrying to the bathroom with her arms wrapped round her waist like some sort of security blanket.

Inside the toilet smelt of disinfectant and soap. Kathryn scrunched up her nose as she moved to the mirror, peering up and into her reflection. She wetted her hands under the running tap, before turning it off once more and moving to clean her face—but the girls has followed her in, and as Molly ordered her minions to keep the door shut, Kathryn felt nothing but sheer dread build up inside of her. This was it. They were going to do something terrible.

"Hey freak." The blonde girl moved closer to her, momentarily turning to grin at her friends who were also laughing.

"Leave me alone," Kathryn insisted, wincing at the realisation that it had come out as a mere squeak. She backed herself up against one of the cubicle doors as Molly came closer, hoping and hoping that the other girl would turn away and leave her alone.

It began like this every time, and the ending was always the same too: she'd be left alone on the floor, sopping wet with water from the toilet, coughing and spluttering as she rested her head against the wall and sobbed.

Molly pretended to look thoughtful for a moment, brows burrowed as she backed Kathryn further against the door, eventually meaning the timid girl stumbled as it opened. She grinned like the bitch she was, hands placed on her hips as she hissed, "No way, weirdo. This isn't how it works, and you know that."

"B-but, I-I don't think this is fair," Kathryn retorted, "because you're just being cruel for the sake of it. It's…horrible."

"And I don't care."

The three girls holding the exit shut laughed, tossing their heads back as they did so. It made no matter what Molly said, they'd always laugh at it one way or another, always pathetic and simpering towards their leader. And it was sickening to Kathryn as she backed against the wall of the cubicle, a lump forming in her throat as the girls continued to giggle unnecessarily. Truthfully they were all idiots who Kathryn despised and wished to pulverise, but the opportune moment never rose and she settled for punching her opponents in martial arts classes, imagining their cruel faces in place of her opponents.

Molly shrugged, clicking her fingers. As she did so two girls came forward and grabbed Kathryn's arms and pushed her to a kneeling position, struggling in the process because of the sheer power Kathryn used to try and fight them off. She wasn't weak—never was, never had been—and was sick and tired of being their toy, someone to mess with whenever they felt like it. She wouldn't stand for it anymore. It was wrong. She could fight, after all. What was the point in not using her martial arts knowledge? It seemed like a better choice to fight.- Yet she never expected a hit to the stomach; so sudden, so painful that she arched and lost grip of them, hands slipping away to wrap themselves around her waist. She hung her head low with shame, with fear, until Molly grabbed a clump of her hair and shoved her down into the cold water.

Fancy going round and round like a mouse in a pail, clutching at the slimy sides, with the water filling your mouth, and looking up to the little patch of sky above. It's strangely euphoric.

* * *

He was no longer a mere commander, but a commodore—from one o'clock, at least. Today was the grand ceremony, one of which was going to be held in front of the entirety of Port Royal (the Lords, Ladies and members of the higher social class), with his friends and fellow commanders supporting him. And as always he strived to be the best, not only because he was to be presented in front of the people of Port Royal, but also because Governor Swann had promised he could take Elizabeth's hand in marriage. Both had planned the moment from the minute James had rushed to the Swann's household, his announcement of promotion clutched in gloved hands.

And everything, he had decided, was going to be perfect. As he walked to Port Royal in his best attire (he preferred to walk to help calm his nerves, deciding that the fresh air would probably help), he tucked the velvet box containing the engagement ring in his pocket. He continued his leisurely stroll along the pathway that led from his little house with a look of contentment on his face, before stopping in his tracks at the sight of a young lady lying amongst the brambles.

Of course, as his role as commodore, it was his job to watch over the people of Port Royal. _And _considering he had left half an hour earlier, he decided he had enough time to pop her off back home and return to his stroll. If only it was that easy.

"Excuse me, miss." She made no movement. The light, almost still rise and fall of her chest worried him, a small sigh of anguish slipping through his lips. He stooped down to try and prod her with a finger once more, murmuring, "Excuse me," but it seemed to have very little effect.

Ten minutes later Norrington had decided it was more than appropriate to carry her to his house, on the grounds that is wasn't too far away, and that she was light and unconscious. Once they reached the cottage he placed her on his chaise, before leaving her for the ceremony. He felt valiant and chivalrous, but also couldn't help but hope she didn't wake up without him.

-_Ten minutes have passed-_

Kathryn's eyes snapped open and feverishly scanned their surroundings. With a slight gasp she fell back onto the chaise once more, reaching up with a hand and running it through her locks. She frowned slightly as she realised they were damp, her memory feeling fuzzy and dazed. The only thing she seemed to recall was being stuck somewhere, and then blacking out. She had a feeling it hadn't been too pleasant, however, as her head ached and her arm was covered in bruises.

The room she had found herself in was odd, with a little old-fashioned clock ticking away on a mantelpiece, a portrait of a dapper gentleman residing on the wall opposite. The wallpaper seemed pretty old-fashioned too, and the carpet when she looked closer. In fact, the whole room reminded her of something from the 1800s—much like the time period in which the Pirates of the Caribbean movies took place. It was almost as if she had been transported back in time—

"Oh God," she whispered, turning to face the portrait. Her eyes flickered up and down the length of it, steadily drinking in the man who was portrayed. She then clamped a hand over her mouth and screeched a muffled: "THAT'S NORRINGTON!", before fainting and crumpling to the floor in a flustered state.

* * *

**Missy**

_Ten, nine, eight-_

It was dark and oh-so frightening—it was almost cliché. After a long, hard day at college she had decided to take the route that lead into the woods, thinking it would be seriously cool to spot any spooky goings on—especially as her friends had all been there, and had babbled on incessantly about how cool it was, and how they were convinced there were supernatural beings living there. Every time she had tried to enter the woods something came up, and she never could make it. It totally didn't mean she was afraid; Missy loved horror movies and sometimes wrote horror fiction of her own, but things always just…happened.

And this time she was determined to prove to her friends that she was no coward. With her phone's camera opened up, ready to snap the spookiest thing she could find, Missy tramped through the woods with a slight shiver coursing through her body.

_-seven, six, five, four, three-_

A snap echoed through the woods behind her, making her jump. In the light of recent news—the phantom dog that all her friends had so supposedly spotted—the noise was a complete signifier, and meant she was condemned to impending death.

"Hello, freaky dog thing!" she called out with uncertainty, whirling around on her feet. In her other hand she held a torch, but the light was unable to focus properly due to its trembling and strange flickering.

_-two-_

It wasn't possible, was it? Her friends were only lying. They were just winding her up with tales of a phantom dog who ripped you apart, savouring your bones and flesh as you lay and screamed for mercy. No. There was most certainly no way that she was going to die—after all, she was pretty sure she was near the end of the woods, and that meant home and safety. And cake. Lots of well-deserved cake.

-_one-_

Instead she wasn't paying attention to where she was going and tripped over some brambles, falling, falling through a black vast of nothingness. The torch slipped from her fingers and landed on the forest floor with a thud, her brown hair whipping around her face ferociously as she flailed her arms, fingers scratching against roots and mud as she fought to grab something-anything at all to prevent herself from falling, from death. She feared she was going mad, a terrified scream erupting from her quivering lips as she continued to fall. It was merciless, never-ending.

She wasn't falling through the air—or was she? It was hard to tell, with all the spinning, thrashing and wind that were frightening her. It didn't make much such sense considering roots blurred past her s she fell, her fingers brushing against soil and dirt as she wildly thrashed about and tried to find something to hold onto. Through the madness she forced her eyes open, determined to see things properly, and watched with confusion as images of other girls flashed through her eyes.

They were just like her—falling, drowning, _dying. _Was she alive, or dead?

* * *

Salt. Sea salt. Salty sea. Missy wretched at the smell, lurching forward as she jerked awake. Her eyes snapped open as her hands came crashing down onto—wood. And then she lifted her hands, peering at them in a peculiar manner, before eyes travelled the length of the deck that ran underneath. It wasn't long before they settled on a ship, and four others. The sound of seagulls and mean shouting orders at one another were rife; and to the left of her men were throwing supplies from a ship, young beggar children darting round crates to find their supper. She frowned with confusion, a strange noise slipping through her lips.

"Crap," she hissed, lifting a hand to her aching head as she squinted in the sunlight. She rested on the ground for a few seconds more, before heaving herself to her feet and whirling around on her heels, searching for anything, a sign—

The top of a billowing sail passed regally somewhere on the horizon. She raised a hand to her face, intending to use it as some sort of shade so she could see properly—and what she saw surprised her so much, she almost fell backwards. On the landward face of the sail, apparently high in the rigging was a man for whom the term 'swashbuckling rogue' was coined: Captain Jack Sparrow. He gazed keen-eyed at Missy, offering a wink and raising a tankard in salute.

She found herself blushing at the man's forwardness, at first mistaking it for a dream, but when a splash of water hit her in the face and soaked her, she screamed: "IT'S YOU! IT'S REALLY, REALLY YOU! YOU'RE CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW, AND I LOVE YOU! OH MY GOD."

Mildly distracted by having to turn his ship towards the port, Jack chuckled and shook his head. "My reputation precedes me," he grinned, stopping to remove his hat and sweep into a bow.

"BUT THIS IS REAL!" she gabbled, arms flailing in his direction. "A-AND YOU'RE EVEN HOTTER IN PERSON!"

A quick wink, flash of the gold teeth and Jack swiftly steered his boat (if you could call it that. It was laughable) into the port and jumped down onto the deck. The huge British dreadnaught, H.M.S. Dauntless dominated the bay. But Jack's attention was on a different ship: the H.M.S. Interceptor, a small sleek vessel with rail guns. And she pouted momentarily as he forgot about her presence for a while, reaching out a hand to knock off his hat.

"Don't do that, luv," he warned, hand jerking up to grab her wrist. "Tis not advisable when I, captain Jack Sparrow, am involved."

"You're touching my hand!" Her eyes practically burned into his flesh, unblinking and wide as she blushed furiously at the feeling of skin against skin. She was, despite it sounding wholly cheesy, completely sure that she had felt a spark between the two of them.

"And you're a pretty girl," he said, mimicking her voice.

"I-I am?"

He grinned, raising a brow as he pulled her closer. "Course, luv. Captain Jack never lies!"

She took a deep breath as he pulled her closer, snaking an arm around her waist as he breathed hot air onto her neck. She blushed profoundly, lips quivering as her eyes fell to rest on Jack's, before she shyly smiled and hung her head as Jack hoarsely murmured, "A pretty lass like you could be of great use to a great pirate like me, you know."

"But…I'm just..."

"Obviously skilled with a sword," he finished for her, unwrapping one arm and tapping the scabbard that was tied round her waist. "Very valuable."

It took a lot of willpower not to burst there and then, her lips curling into an even bigger smile as she brushed the weapon with her fingertips. It was cool, sharp and sent shivers down her spine.

"What do you say, eh?" He reached out a hand, gesturing to the sea ahead of them as he used his other to drape himself over her shoulders. "Would you help out ol' Jack? I need a crew."

"HOW CAN I SAY NO?!"

"Is…that a yes, luv?"

Missy grinned, nodding. "_Duh."_

* * *

**Anna**

It felt like a dream, therefore it had to be a dream. It was a dream unlike any other; the smells felt so real, the touch of wood on her bare legs as she knelt by the bars. The prision cell was stuffy, cold and damp, obviously a danger to her health—but it wouldn't be, would it? Because this was all just a dream.

She had dreamt this exact dream every night for the past six months without fail, and each and every time Barbossa came to rescue her. Except this time was different, and she couldn't comprehend why Barbossa was cruelly regarding her with mocking slurs and threats. He called her his prisoner, accused her of being a stowaway, and a threat to his men. She didn't understand any of it, nor did she ever want to because she had a feeling that he meant something utterly weird and dirty.

Anna wrapped her pale fingers around the bars of the cell, pressing her forehead against it. A cold breeze blew in through a crack in the ship, and the creaking of floorboards startled her. A rat scampered past heavy boots that lingered on the other side, a clawed hand reaching through the bar to point in her face as an accusing Barbossa scowled, "Ye will be punished accordingly."

"But you're wrong," she started, "it's not supposed to be like this. You're supposed to be rescuing me, and I'm supposed to walk free, to fight with you and your men." She clamped her eyes shut, squeezing the bars of the cell with her fingers as Barbossa's cackle rang through her ears.

"Stop it!" she snapped, eyes blinking open. "Stop it, Barbossa! It's not supposed to be like this, and you know it. I hate it when you play these games."

He blinked in surprise, stopping mid-cackle. He leaned forward with a glint of interest in his eye, sizing her up. "Have we met before then? Ye seem so certain that ye know me, lassie."

After a moment's pause she sighed, biting her lower lip. "It's not real," she vehemently declared, gesturing to the air. "It might feel real, but it's all just a dream. I'm telling you!"

"And what makes ye say that?"

Anna rapped on the wooden floor with her knuckle, surprised at how realistic it sounded and felt. "I-it feels real, but it can't be. There is no way that this is real. I'm just dreaming."

Barbossa rose from his chair, lips curling into a sardonic smile. "Ah, and I be yer _worst nightmare!" _He hissed, smacking his sword against the cell.

His monkey jumped from nowhere, leaping at Anna's face, and the girl fell backwards in her cell, covering her face with her hands. With one satisfied last look at his prisoner Barbossa called back his monkey, before storming off to his cabin.

"It's not real," Anna told herself, repeating it like some sort of sacred prayer. "It's not real…"

Truth was, she knew it was real. Her mind was just struggling to cope with the reality of it. How could she have just gone to sleep dreaming of a similar scenario, to have been woken up in this hell? It made no sense, and Anna angrily hit her arm against the railing: "Damn him to hell!"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: As always, reviews keep me motivated. Thank you very much for reading!**

* * *

**Lucy and Melissa **

The caller—William Turner, of course— was dressed in rough clothing and stood in the foyer, looking very out of place. He held himself somewhat awkwardly, his chest puffed out in an attempt to emulate some importance. And as soon as Lucy set her blue eyes on the man's form she clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes widening and hands shaking slightly as she gripped onto the railing of the stairs. Originally she was in a hurry, completely and utterly excited by the notion of meeting _the _Will Turner, but Elizabeth had already scurried past, simpering and smiling.

"Ah, Mr. Turner! It's good to see you again!" called Governor Weatherby, placing a stern hand on the frozen Lucy's shoulder. She jumped slightly as he did so, and Weatherby offered a small, compassionate smile in hopes she would hurry along.

William turned, his nervous smile making him look slightly petulant. He held up the long presentation case with a flourish, looking incredibly handsome with a watchful demeanour that made Lucy swoon.

"Good day, sir! I have your order."

All four members of the Swann family hurried towards him; Elizabeth and Lucy elbowing one another in a rather competitive manner as they fought, Melissa trudging behind with a look of disdain on her face. Weatherby reached out and took the sword reverently as Will proudly announced, "The blade is folded steel. That's gold filigree laid into the handle. If I may –"

He took the sword from Weatherby, and balanced it on one finger at the point where the blade meets the guard. Two of the Swann girls 'oohed' and 'ahhed', as Will continued: "Perfectly balanced. The tang is nearly the full width of the blade."

"Impressive ... very impressive," Swann started, "Commodore Norrington will be pleased, I'm sure. Do pass my compliments on to your master."

"I shall. A craftsman is always pleased to hear his work is…appreciated." He bowed slightly, almost stiffly. It seemed his words were almost feigned.

Elizabeth turned slightly with a horrified look on her face as Will faltered slightly, and Lucy almost snapped at her 'father' for misunderstanding that it _was Will _who had made the sword. And she felt bad for him, seeing as everyone overlooked him and his ability. She was pretty sure they must have spoken before as Will greeted her and Elizabeth with the same words, and even now he was regarding her with what he thought to be a secretive side-glance.

So Lucy decided to take advantage of this. Her 'father' and fish lips thought she was going down with some sort of fever, and she decided she was going to try her best to appear normal and-

"Ooooh, _burn." _Oh. Of course. Melissa _had _to go and spoil it all!

"_Melissa," _Lucy hissed, turning on her heels to glare at her friend. It was supposed to be a warning, eyes burning with fury as she clenched her fists and pressed her lips into a thin line, but Melissa merely sauntered over with her usual confidence, grinning madly like a Cheshire cat.

"'Sup, Will."

"I-I'm quite alright." He hesitated, peering at her with furrowed brows, before continuing: "How are you, miss Swann? I trust you are excited for Commodore Norrington's ceremony."

"I _am," _Melissa replied, tossing her hair over one shoulder. She offered Lucy a knowing look, a laugh slipping through her lips, and she grinned even more as Elizabeth shot her a deathly glare. So it _seemed_ that her actions were making Elizabeth nervous, almost as if the fishy-lipped woman was afraid of competition.

And she was determined to get her friend William Turner because, considering Elizabeth's future flirtatious behaviour, she knew exactly how it would make Will feel. Despite struggling to understand what her friend saw in Turner, she understood that the only girl for him should be Lucy. Lucy was devoted to Will. It was creepy at times, but this time she allowed for it, and was even willing to help Lucy in her quest. So, with a gentle push, she guided Lucy towards Will.

Lucy tried to hold herself like a proper lady, but was sure this wasn't how she usually acted as Will glanced at her with a look of confusion. She tried to smile and failed in doing so, mildly put off by the loud grinding of Elizabeth's teeth and the sound of disdain that had slipped through Weatherby's lips. Melissa stood between Lucy and Elizabeth, ushering the girl to go on with a small nod of the head.

"Are you well?" he asked, frowning slightly. "You seem…quiet. Is something wrong?"

"She's just contracted an awful fever," Elizabeth interjected, pushing past Melissa. She shot both girls a dirty look and sashayed her hips as she walked. It was a feeble attempt at seduction, and she apparently failed in her conquest as Will backed away slightly.

"In fact," she continued, "you really shouldn't be so close to her. You might catch whatever it is that she has, and I most certainly wouldn't want you to get ill."

"_Shut it, _fish lips."

The room froze. Weatherby grabbed Lucy by her wrist and gently tugged her towards him, slightly more wary of what was about to happen. Will backed away too, swallowing thickly as his eyes darted from Elizabeth to Melissa.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, fists clenched and lips curling into a snarl. Melissa had almost the same expression on her face, except hers was full of much more loathing.

"What did you say?"

Melissa sharply replied, "Fish lips."

"Fish," Elizabeth growled, "lips?"

"Yeah. I mean, you've got these big, ugly pouty lips, so Lucy and I—"

"_Girls, _this is hardly appropriate!_" _Weatherby interrupted the both of them with a sharp, loud warning. Apparently he never raised his voice, as Elizabeth jumped about ten foot in the air and went striding off to the carriage—without even saying goodbye to Will.

"See you around, Will!" Melissa grinned, skipping off after Elizabeth.

And then, seeing as Weatherby was practically groaning out of anguish, Lucy simply offered Will a small, shy smile and a wave, before turning on her heels and following her 'sisters' to the carriage.

"Good day, Miss Swann!"

* * *

**Missy**

Two sailors on sentry duty, Murtogg and Mullroy, seemed to be taking advantage of what little shade there was on the dock. But when Jack sauntered up, Missy in tow, they immediately elbowed one another, standing up straighter than before.

"This dock is off-limits to civilians," Mullroy notified him, hand absent mindedly reaching for his sword as Jack came closer.

"Sorry," Jack smirked, "I didn't know."

Missy giggled at the stand-offish approach Jack was taking in regards to the two knuckle-heads, but when her eyes fell to look at the swords the sailors were fingering, her hand reached to grab her own. With fingers ghosting along the handle she decided she was ready for anything. And even if she didn't know how to handle a sword, she figured just wildly thrashing it about would be good enough.

At the sound of music drifting from Port Royal, Jack looked up and used his hand to shield his eyes. Missy did the same, mimicking him at the exact same moment so they were in sync, and her eyes widened as she realised it meant that Elizabeth—or, fishy lips as she preferred to refer to her—would soon be joining them in all her simpering glory.

And that pissed her off slightly.

"Some sort of to-do up at the fort, eh? You two weren't invited?"

"Of course not!" Missy answered for them, placing her hands on her hips. "Look at the both of them. Would you invite them to _your…_fancy thing?"

Jack chuckled, shaking his head: "No, luv. Can't say I would."

"Actually," Murtogg frowned, stepping forward as he titled up his chin and spoke with a forced level of importance, "someone has to make sure this dock stays off-limits to civilians. So we're doing something important."

"This must be some important boat."

Mullroy and Missy both corrected him: "Ship."

"Ship, then."

"Captain Norrington's made it his flagship. He'll use it to hunt down the last dregs of piracy on the Spanish Lake."

With mild interest Jack tilted his head to look at the ship. He offered a sideways glance in Missy's direction, grinning all the while, and Missy found herself grinning back. When he was done admiring the ship, wishing he had his own with him to take down Norrington and his crew of dandies, Jack turned back to the two dunderheads and frowned.

"That's a fine goal, I'm sure ...But it seems to me a ship like that –" He gestured to the Dauntless "—makes this one here just a wee superfluous."

" Oh, the Dauntless is the power in these waters, true enough - but there's no ship that can match the Interceptor for speed."

Missy knew the next line. She knew it off by heart. Therefore, she decided a little bit of impressing was due—after all, she was supposed to be making a good impression on Jack so he wouldn't just throw her away at the end of it. If she could show him her assets (and not the ones he was currently eyeing up), then perhaps he would decide to make her a permanent part of his crew. She decided that her extensive knowledge of the movies would be more then beneficial.

"That so?" she cut in, tilting her head as she stepped towards them. "I've heard of one, supposed to be fast, neigh uncatchable ... the Black Pearl?"

When Mullroy scoffed at the name, Murtogg elbowed him in the side. Missy and Jack glanced at one another as the two sailors began to scuffle, cries of "there's no such thing!" and "there is, you fool!" rang out through the port, Jack grabbed Missy by the wrist and ran for the Interceptor.

"Good work out there, lassie," he grinned, pulling her onto the ship.

"Why thank you!" She smiled and him, and he returned an equally large one.

"So, how long do you think it is until they notice we're here?"

Jack paused, hands still on the wheel of the ship. He looked down at the two squabbling and grinned, a chuckle slipping through his lips as he proudly declared, "Probably never."

"You haven't seen it."

"Yes, I have."

"You've seen a ship with black sails that's crewed by the damned and captained by a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out?"

Murtogg paused, unblinking. "…No…"

"Exactly-"

"But I've seen a ship with black sails."

"Oh, and no ship that's not crewed by the damned and captained by a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out could possibly have black sails and therefore couldn't possibly be any ship other than the Black Pearl. Is that what you're saying?"

Murtogg was about to open his mouth to answer the other, brows furrowed and thin-lipped, when he spotted that Jack was no longer standing in front of them, but _on _the deck of the Interceptor. At the wheel, with his female companion tossing rude finger signs in their direction.

"You!" the idiots both screamed in unison, pointing an accusing finger at Jack.

Missy froze, her hands falling to rest on her hips yet again, and she tilted her head as Jack threw up his arms and innocently looked over in exaggerated surprise.

"Get away from there!" they persisted, obviously not realising that Jack wasn't stupid and had no intentions of getting off the boat. "You don't have permission to be there!"

"I'm sorry. It's just a pretty boat." Jack sighed, spreading his hands in feigned apology. He sidled up to Missy, his hand trying to dart out and reach for her sword, but she was having none of it and slapped his hand away.

"Ship," she bit, correcting him with a bitter tone to her voice. She decided that whilst Jack had no weapons of his own, she would have to take better care of her sword. She could not risk losing it with a man like him around.

"What's your business in Port Royal?"

"And no lies!"

Jack grinned, draping an arm over her shoulder. "None?" Melissa said, before narrowing her eyes and glancing at Jack. "Very well. You've rumbled us. I confess: we're planning to commander one of these ships; pick up a crew in Tortuga, and do a little bit of honest pirating."

"H-hang on. How did you know that? I was going to say that."

"I'm very valuable," she whispered, "_mate_."

"I said, no lies."

"I think she's telling the truth."

"She's not telling the truth."

Melissa, sick and tired of their bickering, leaned closer towards the edge and snidely called out to them: "If I were telling truth I wouldn't have told you. But I did. So is it the truth? Because it's the truth."

Both looked at each other, completely and utterly perplexed. And then Jack came forward, staggering with his usual pompous swagger, a sardonic laugh slipping through his lips as one of his aphorisms came to mind.

"Unless, of course, she knew you wouldn't believe the truth if she told you it."

* * *

**Anna**

"Tell me why I'm here." It wasn't a question, but a demand. And she said it through bitterly clenched teeth, her fists grabbing onto the material of her shirt.

After Barbossa had called for her to be brought up into his office, he also ordered for her to be washed and given a change of new clothes. When the crewmates brought her three options—all dresses, and all far too revealing—she shunned the offer and turned her back on the perverse smiles, folding her arms across her chest in a petulant manner. It took them an hour to finally accept that she would only oblige if they gave her a shirt and breeches, and when they did offered them reluctantly.

His office was certainly better than the prison cell—the conditions were, at least. The company, however, was unsavoury. The entire time he forced her to sit in silence whilst he sat and 'observed' her. It was most uncomfortable, and her demand was her way of breaking the silence and the awkwardness.

In response to her words he arched a brow, leaning forward as he snarled, "Are ye daring to be rude to me, lassie?"

"Yes," she replied, defiant in her tone. "I am, because you've treated me like some sort of dog—and I don't stand for that."

"Yer scared," he mocked, "and that's why yer being so bloody rude."

She raised an eyebrow, shifting in her seat. Truth was, he was rather intimidating, and made her feel threatened. Anna felt like if she didn't put up such a front he might mock her further, and after his previous torments she didn't fancy it.

"Cat got yer tounge?"

"No, actually. I'm just bored. Can I go now?"

Unflinching, he sharply rose from the chair and strode towards her with a menacing air. Lips curled into a snarl, eyes flashed red with anger, and Barbossa simply growled a low, threatening, "I'll tell yer now, missy; there's to be a lot more _boredom _on board this here ship!"

"What are you going to do?" she asked, standing up. She wasn't as tall has him, but she wasn't a short girl. Her attempt at trying to be equally menacing failed—and she knew that, stepping back slightly as he came closer towards her.

Her breath hitched as her back hit the wall, eyes wide and lips quivering as Barbossa unsheathed his sword and pressed it to her neck.

"Are ye _bored_ now?"

Anna flinched at the contact of cold, sharp steel pressing into her skin. The blade pierced her skin, a drop of blood dripping down her neck, and Barbossa took a finger and wiped it away as if it were nothing. A menacing laugh slipped through his cruel lips, and Anna remained stock still as he pressed the sword further into her skin. She didn't dare flinch or even blink, attempting to hold her breath before any more blood was drawn.

"Yer free to go," he hissed, withdrawing the blade and observing the crimson stain with a smirk.

Anna didn't need to be told twice and, with a glare, slipped from the room and hurried out onto the deck.

* * *

**A/N: I was planning to write more, but it's late and I'm exhausted. I'm really sorry to the people I missed out in this chapter, and apologies to Anna for such a short part. I'm trying to include you all, but I do prefer quality over quantity—and I hope you think I'm giving you quality. **


End file.
